


God is Dead at the Starbucks in Barstow

by jade_maiden_333



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Black Sabbath - Freeform, Coffee Shops, Domestic Fluff, M/M, My First Destiel Fanfic, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 12:02:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4019002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jade_maiden_333/pseuds/jade_maiden_333
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean & Castiel are married and living in Southern California. They're road tripping to Winslow, Arizona to see Meteor Crater. Nothing happens. Everything happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	God is Dead at the Starbucks in Barstow

**Author's Note:**

> My undying gratitude goes to my beta, friend, chief cheerleader, [ANobleCompanion.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ANobleCompanion) She's the real McCoy.

Castiel opened his eyes, roused by the motion of Dean impatiently changing lanes. The Impala hummed along at a solid eighty-five, Dean slaloming through sparse pre-dawn commuters as if they're in a hurry. They were not. Head resting against the cool window, Castiel quietly took in the view of industrial business parks and salvage yards barreling past, reducing the lights of the small town to yellow-white dots fluttering along like blurry fireflies. It was still dark, and Castiel could feel from a place deep down inside that dawn was about to break. He adjusted in his seat,shifting from one hip to the other. He hummed and sighed sleepily, taking in the sight of Dean's handsome silhouette back lit by the dashboard's soft glow. He closed the distance between them and leaned into his husband’s shoulder.

Dean rested his hand on Castiel's thigh and squeezed it lightly. "You okay? I was going to stop for coffee soon. Barstow is five minutes away."

"Hmm. That sounds good. I have to pee."

"Already? We’ve only been on the road for an hour. I swear, man, you have the bladder of a six year old."

"Yes. A six year old who didn’t have to pee an hour ago. A six year old who is perfectly capable of waiting till the next rest stop."

Dean laughed, lifting his hand and throwing his arm around Castiel, pulling him in closer. “So. This big hole in the ground we’re driving five hundred miles for. Tell me there’s more to do than just looking at it.”

“There’s a visitor center with a gift shop and a museum. You won’t be bored. But even if there was nothing to see but the crater, it’s breathtaking. It’s worth the trip. I promise.”

“A breathtaking hole in the ground.”

“It’s called Meteor Crater, Dean. It only seems like just a hole till you look closer. If you really examine it, you can see that it answers questions.”

“Like _why did I drive five hundred miles_ \--”

“Like where did we come from? How did we get to be who we are? Important questions about geology. Chemistry.” Castiel lifted his head and stared at Dean’s profile. “I hope you’re going to at least try to enjoy this with me.”

“Uh-huh.” Dean grinned. “Well, I do owe you one.”

“Temecula Rod Run three years in a row? You owe me more than one.” 

The radio was playing some classic rock tune that Castiel could not make out. They were traveling north on a stretch of Interstate 15 that was rapidly losing the reception culled from the town a dozen miles behind them. Castiel reached forward, twisting the radio’s dial, looking for a clearer station. A heavy, dark guitar riff pealed out of the speakers and filled the Impala.

“There,” Dean barked. “I like that song.”

Castiel wasn’t as good at recognizing artists as Dean, but this time he picked up on the unmistakable warble of Ozzy Osbourne. For all the years that Castiel and Dean had been together, it was nearly impossible that Castiel wouldn’t have been intimately acquainted with Black Sabbath. This song, however, was unknown to him. 

Dean flicked on the turn signal and maneuvered the Impala onto the exit. Castiel saw the familiar Starbucks logo closing in and straightened in this seat. He arced back into a languid stretch and a yawn overtook him. He really did have to pee, he thought.

“Is he saying God is dead?” Castiel asked.

“What?”

“The song. Is he singing that God is dead?”

“Yeah, but you have to listen to the whole song, not just the chorus.”

Dean pulled the Impala into the almost empty Starbucks parking lot, easing into one of the narrow spaces. Castiel glanced through the car’s window into the dimly lit store, and could see a lone employee working behind the counter. The coffee shop had only just opened.

Dean snatched the key out of the ignition, silencing Black Sabbath. The two men opened their doors and stepped out the car in a familiar, synchronous motion.

Castiel pushed the door shut and waited near the curb as Dean pocketed the keys, stretched and ambled slowly around the car. “You mean he’s _not_ saying God is Dead?” Castiel asked.

“No.” Dean said, shaking his head. “Yes. Both. The song is asking the question. He’s looking for the answer.”

“So, what does Ozzy believe?”

“Actually, Ozzy Osbourne didn’t write the song. Geezer Butler wrote it.”

“Geezer Butler,” Castiel frowned, thinking. “I know that name, right?”

“You do if you’re married to me,” Dean rumbled, pulling the door open and holding it for Castiel. “Bassist for Black Sabbath.”

The men stepped into the shop and immediately sensed the habituated sameness of the place. They’d never been to this particular Starbucks, but the ever-present dark wood paneling and strategically stacked bags of coffee reminded them of the one in their neighborhood. 

The petite blonde behind the counter looked up, and smiled brightly. “Good morning! What can I get you two?”

Castiel nodded and turned to Dean, mouthing _be right back_ as he detoured toward the bathrooms. Dean thought to call after him to ask him what he wanted to drink, but changed his mind, knowing that Castiel asked for the same thing every time they visited the coffeehouse.

Dean ordered the drinks while the barista tapped out the order on the register. "And what's your name?" She asked, pen poised to scribble on the side of the coffee cup. Dean looked around the empty store. He heard the distant sound of the bathrooms air blower activate as he turned back to see the girl waiting.

"Dean." He said. 

He paid for the drinks and shuffled down the counter to the area where she would serve his order. 

Castiel emerged from the bathroom, rubbing the last of the moisture from his hands, looking relieved and happy.

“Did you order?”

Dean nodded. “I got you the Misto. With soy.”

"You remembered!"

"Always.” Dean replied, slipping an arm around Castiel’s waist.

“Dean,” the barista read from the cup loudly. Dean sighed, exasperated. He was standing right in front of her. 

“You boys have a nice day. Be safe out there,” she chirped, pushing the hot drinks across the counter.

“Same,” Dean replied, grabbing the cups. Castiel reached into his pocket and pulled out a bill. He stuffed it into the tip jar as Dean bee-lined his way toward the door.

Dean shouldered the door open as Castiel stepped into the early morning chill. He pulled the plastic lid off his cup and sipped, soy foam leaving a semi-sweet patch on his upper lip.

“Geezer Butler is a philosopher,” Castiel declared sinking into his seat. Dean was still standing next to the Impala, hand paused on the doors handle. He peered curiously into the car.

“Come again?”

“The song. I just thought that Black Sabbath was just a band that played loud music. But when you examine their lyrics, they’re quite thoughtful. Pithy, even.”

Dean shook his head as he started the car. “I’m not gonna even ask what that means.”

“It’s another example of how it’s important to look beyond your initial impressions.”

“We’re not talking about Black Sabbath anymore, are we?”

Castiel examined his cup, pensive. He took another pull at the warm brew. “This coffee is good.”

“It is.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said, voice barely above a whisper.

“For what?”

Castiel knew that Dean didn’t do professions of love. Nothing outright. Nothing out there. But he needed Dean to hear it. He needed Dean to understand. 

“You know. The coffee. The trip,” Castiel smiled into his cup. “Everything.”

Dean shifted slightly, took a gulp of his hot drink, Castiel was certain that Dean was ignoring the burn as it went down. Dean glanced over to see Castiel staring at him intently, the moment weighing heavily as the seconds ticked by. Dean wedged his cup in the vee of his thighs and took Castiel’s hand, lacing their fingers together. Dean settled his attention on the road as he rested their hands on his thigh, and pulled deftly onto the interstate.

Castiel relaxed, melting into Dean’s side. He reveled in the feeling of Dean’s wedding band, cool and sturdy, warming in the heat of their intertwined fingers. Castiel kissed his shoulder. He nosed the man’s jacket and breathed in Dean’s scent, eyes fluttering closed. They were headed east now, dawn breaking expansively across the horizon. Castiel lazily watched the sky through the windshield. 

Robin’s egg. 

Periwinkle. 

Cobalt. 

Indigo sliding into diamond-strewn sable.

Dean’s thumb traced idle figure eight’s across the back of Castiel’s hands in tune to CCR on the radio.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've never been to Meteor Crater, Cas is right on the money. It's spectacular. Visit virtually [Meteor Crater.](http://meteorcrater.com/)
> 
> The song that Dean and Castiel are listening to is Black Sabbath's 2013 release,[God is Dead?](https://youtu.be/OhhOU5FUPBE) It's vintage 'Sabbath.


End file.
